


Match

by Rainbow_Transform



Series: If You Love It, [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apologies, Children, Children being children, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Love, Love Confessions, Nilfgaard, Original Character(s), Protective Everyone, Teenage Dorks, Teenagers, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, This is so much fun guys., This one will have one, bear with me here, but not really I guess, i'm going to die, kinda fix-it, so much fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:53:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23386939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbow_Transform/pseuds/Rainbow_Transform
Summary: Maybe it’s because he doesn’t look like the Fae. He doesn’t have Wings, his teeth aren’t as sharp as theirs, he doesn’t use glamor, not to mention, in reality, his magic is very weak compared to theirs. Sure, he’s got magic , and his teeth are just a tinties bit sharper than a normal human’s, and he still looks like he’s eighteen despite him being fifty-six years old. Yennefer is looking at him, awaiting his response, and Jaskier swallows and says: “I thought it was only four Winters.”
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier & Original Characters, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: If You Love It, [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682296
Comments: 34
Kudos: 122





	1. Jaskier

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I'm gonna do a Fae story??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? 
> 
> I guess that the Fae lore is going to be okay?????????????????????? I hope??????????????????????
> 
> I love you guys! Stay safe!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :)

“We can’t stay here any longer,” Jaskier tells his grandfather late at night. “They’ve figured it out. It’s time to move on.” His grandfather pinches the bridge of his nose.

“We can’t,” he tells Jaskier. “They will find out, and then what? What will we do when they send letters to their neighboring Kingdoms? Then, all of our people⸺all of our people⸺will become targets.”

“What if we do it a little at a time?” Jaskier suggests. “Bring a group of Fae out, in human form, and become a kind of traveling band? Just until the first group can find a safe place. And, then when the other groups find us, they can settle down, too. Grandfather, we can’t just sit back and be driven out. If we do, then they’ll take us prisoner.” Citron pinches the bridge of his nose, and the flowers that bloom across the meadow they’re standing in aren’t from Jaskier.

“You’re right,” Citron says, taking a deep breath. “Of course, you’re right. Okay. Okay. We’ve got to make a plan, something better than an outline.”

“Okay.” Jaskier says, plucking a buttercup from the meadow and tucking it behind his own ear. “Okay.”

* * *

They make their plan, taking their people’s thoughts in consideration. The older Fae, the ones who can change their appearance, who can use their magic with ease, who can _control_ themselves, are asked to help his Grandfather find a new home. The younger ones, the teenagers, and the toddlers and children are to stay home, with Jaskier. His magic is still young, still a child’s, but he’s okay. He’s learned enough to flourish in his World and he knows enough to keep the young safe and happy.

The parents kiss their children, sing them a little lullaby that Jaskier can smell magic. A tracking magic spell, so they can know their children are always safe. Jaskier knows it won’t work for long, perhaps three days. “Why can’t some of us stay here, with our Prince and our children?” Some ask, and Citron replies that they _can_ stay, but they want all of their older folk’s permission to Settle somewhere. 

“It’s what my mother’s done for generations,” he said. “All of our people, excluding our younger folk, are to give our opinion.”

“And if we can’t agree?”

“Then we keep traveling until we _do_ agree. Or, perhaps, we’ll make a new town. Until then, we are all together. Our children should be safe enough, for now. Jaskier can lead them out if something goes wrong. He knows his magic well enough, and the teenagers and he can help our young.”

Jaskier’s people nod. They watch their parents (and grandparents) turn into foxes, birds, deers, rabbits. Anything small and light, and they speed off. It’s a strange thing, watching a pack of different animals run together; but they watch them disappear one by one. Some into the undergrowth, some above; Jaskier feels the magic in the air, and takes in a deep breath. It’s lacking the _new_ smell of the childrens’ magic. It happens quickly, Jaskier didn’t even realize that their other groups left around the same week as the first group.

* * *

Three winters passed after Jaskier returned home; his sister’s ( _he has a sister, who grew up without him)_ guards seem to believe the stories about the Forest (which his parents always denied) and they went riding in the forest. They came with oak stakes, and they burned certain trees to try and force them out. Jaskier would sing quietly, keeping the air clean around them and trying to keep the oak from hurting them.

“We can’t leave,” Citron told him when Jaskier first suggested it. “I found this place, and we’ve grown our children’s children from here. We’ve had these little things before. It’s just hubris. If they touch us,” and Citron smiles, a sharp, cruel thing. It’s that moment that Jaskier finally realizes that he is truly Fae, with sharp teeth and magic that can kill a man with barely a twitch of their fingers. Jaskier knows the stories, of course: they steal children to keep themselves powerful, and replace old tired Fae to be comforted and loved by their parents; if the Fae gets you, you will never be let go; never give the Fae your true name because names have power. Fae are monsters, to be avoided at all costs. But it’s the first time that Jaskier _realizes_ Citron’s serious. He won’t let their people die, or get hurt, or anything. Because, the Fae are his people and they will be Jaskier’s one day. Jaskier will have to do that, one day. He will have to use everything in his power to keep their people safe, and keep them from doing anything harmful. And Jaskier understands.

But, another Winter passess, and they don’t stop. In fact, they bring _more_ people from the town and force them to burn more oak and walk throughout the forest and one of them comes a bit too close to their hiding place. Jaskier watches Citron look at his grandson before transforming into a wolf, running out of his hiding place, and growling a warning, first. The man didn’t run, and instead pulled a crossbow off his back and aimed it at Citron. Citron made a choice, and then ripped out the man’s throat. He leans over the man, growling low in his throat, before darting off to a stream, just a few minutes away, to wash off the man’s blood from his muzzle.

And Citron agrees with Jaskier’s plan the next week. Before he leaves, he gifts Jaskier a gold chain with a star-like symbol in it. “It should help you Transform when need be,” he’d told him. “Just in case.” Jaskier nods and hugs his grandfather. He slips a few flowers from his hair into his grandfather’s bag, with a few whispered Protection spells over it. The Fae hate being indebted, even to their own Kind.

* * *

Of course, not even two weeks’ time passess before they _burn Jaskier’s home to the ground._ Jaskier wants to march straight into his sister’s court⸺long hair braided with flowers, dirty clothes, and the Fae young following him like ducklings⸺just to _kill her with Jaskier’s bare hands._ “Wait here,” he tells the young. “I’ll come back, okay?”

_“Promise?”_ One of the teenagers says, looking at him. She’s waiting for Jaskier’s word, to swear upon his Fae blood that he won’t leave them. Not for the Human World. 

“I swear upon my Blood, I will return back to you, tonight.” Jaskier promises. Wording is everything when dealing with the Fae. She nods, satisfied for now, before she turns to help her younger brother learn to Transform once more. Jaskier climbs from the underground where he’d ordered them to stay when he first smelled the smoke, and stumbles toward the town. Ash burns his feet, and he watches the trees that he once hung from as a child, the ones he’d plucked apples from and pushed them down to his family, the ones he’d spend hours enchanting to help protect his family⸺he watches them burn. He walks into town and goes to the tavern.

The innkeeper raises an eyebrow and Jaskier tells her that he’s a bard. He’ll sing for four plates of food and hot water. Not a bath, but just hot water. “You have no lute,” she says. “Or any instrument.”

“I’ll find one.”

“Then, when you _find_ one, then come back. And, perhaps, you will get something. Until then, out, out!”

He finds his lute right where he left it. There’s moss growing on it, the wood old and rotting. He strums it, gently, and feels the magic he’d once had come surging back, along with memories filled with anger, hatred, and love. Jaskier strums it, again, tunes it gently and then heads back to the tavern. He’s got an instrument, not the best one, but he’s got one.

She sighs, but nods her head and Jaskier nods back before he jumps onto an empty table. Everyone’s gaze turns to him⸺some sad, some happy, some with tears in their eyes⸺and Jaskier thinks back to his Bard days, back to Geralt’s reputation. And, so he begins.

_When a humble Bard,_

_Graced a ride-along,_

_With Geralt of Rivia,_

_Along came this song_

* * *

He exits the tavern with three plates, a pail of hot water, and pockets full of coin. There’s something deep in his mind that’s asking him if he’s going to take up being Geralt’s barker again. It’s been _winters_ , Geralt has forgotten him, and he’s got a new family to think of. _It’s just something to have us have coin, so we can be fed._ He snarls to himself and he makes his trekk back to his people.

They descend on the food with vigor, eyeing his lute with a suspicious look. “I can make you a better one!” One of the girls proudly proclaims before she took the lute⸺Jaskier allows her, watching silently⸺and she closes her eyes, concentrating. Soon, she won’t have to do that, with just a twitch of her fingers, she’ll be able to inflict any wound or take away any pain. But, that is later, not now, and Jaskier watches as the moss begins to retract, the wood that’s broken begins growing together again. The water damage begins to spill out of it as she continues and Jaskier takes it back before she can fully recover it.

“You’ll wear yourself out,” he tells her as she pouts. “Eat, sleep, and perhaps I’ll let you do it tomorrow.”

“Promise?” She asks. Asking him to swear, but he purses his lips and doesn’t.

“Perhaps.” He says and her mouth twitches.

_(The food wasn’t a gift, you see. The Young don’t seem to realize the difference between a Gift, or a goodness-out-of-your-heart thing. But, it’s okay. The Fae don’t realize the difference either. Therefore, no one is indebted.)_

* * *

The necklace has magic so embedded in it, Jaskier can’t tell where the necklace ends and where the magic begins. He’s about thirty seconds away from screaming because his brothers and sisters are _whining_ , just because they’re _bored._ They want to go into the Human World and they want to play pranks, and they want their parents and they want to go _home._ And Jaskier can’t fault them for that. The magic will help him protect them. He knows that it will.

So, he decides.

“Let’s go,” he tells them the second week. “We’re going to find our parents and our new home.”

They jump up, eyes bright, before the teenagers stop the little ones. “What are we to do? We can’t go out like this.” One boy gestures to his sharp teeth. 

“And aren’t they going to ask if we bring along… _them?”_ One of the girls points to their young from behind her other hand.

“No,” Jaskier replies. “We’re a traveling band. We’ve got some Mages, some musical ability. We’ll go around a few towns, buy some wagons and something fake so they won’t realize that we’re not _true._ ”

“What if we run into _real_ mages and witches?” One of the young ask, his voice small. And Jaskier realizes that, despite the Fae’s power, their young (and old, in reality) have never left the forest where they’ve lived for centuries. Only the changelings leave, and they never return. They don’t even realize they’re Changelings until the glamour wears off years down the line. (Jaskier watched one parent give up his child, the smell of magic in the air, and how it wove around the baby, transforming the sharp teeth to dull human’s; pointed ears to a rounded point. Wings that haven’t grown in yet, stubs that barely produce are gone within one blink. The baby’s eyes don’t change, though, and Jaskier wonders why.) They’re Young. 

They’re Jaskier’s people. _Jaskier’s Young._ Jaskier’s brothers, Jaskier’s sisters. 

“Then I’ll protect you,” Jaskier promises, the necklace feeling hot underneath his touch. _“I swear upon my Blood.”_

* * *

They end up a few towns over, Jaskier singing his way through. He teaches the Young how to use magic when they Sing, the ones who are “mages” are allowed to use their powers freely. Jaskier teaches them that the mages believe nothing is _free._ You must use one thing to do another. The ones who use their magic freely have given up something, more often than not, their womb or something else. Perhaps their humanity. Or their conscience. _Something._

Jaskier tries to teach them the Human World. “It’s nothing to worry about,” he tells them. “Just keep your wings hidden, keep your magic in ‘what mages would be like’ all that good stuff.”

The teenagers try their best, but they _are_ just teens in an adult/magic world. True, they’re Fae teens, but teens nonetheless. They do teenager things like spread their wings, or rub dirt onto their brothers and sisters’ shirts. They preen their wings, braid flowers into horses’ manes, braid flowers back into _their own_ hair, push flowers behind their siblings’ ears. They rebel against Jaskier’s rule, claim he ruins their lives, and push when Jaskier nudges. They’re _teenagers._

They’re _Jaskier’s people._

But, that also means when he begins teaching them to sword fight he isn’t going easy on them, either. They can use their magic, tricks, anything. The world won’t play fair, _Destiny_ won’t play fair, and therefore, Jaskier won’t either. He feels the string (a deep red, stretching towards the mountains, waiting… waiting… waiting for them to get close enough. Jaskier won’t allow it.)

(There are no Strings on the Fae, Jaskier realizes. The Fae aren’t connected to anyone or anything. They’re each other’s own Destiny. Destiny has deemed them born Fae, to live and die in a forest or to be a Changeling, forced into the human world until the glamor wears off, and they are driven from the humans’ and then from the Underworld, as well.)

* * *

Wallflower is one of Jaskier’s favorite children. She can get any secret out of anybody, and she picks up on using her singing voice to mask her magic very quickly. She also pushes herself harder and tries to fight dirtier whenever Jaskier surprises the teenagers with a sneak attack. (They know he is coming, they can smell him. They also know he doesn’t go easy, and that it’ll just be whenever he deems it necessary.)

She is one of the mage’s “apprentice”, for her magic is strong, and she needs one of the teenagers by her to help her control it, just until she can learn herself. Sundew is her mage or witch or whatever. Jaskier tries to keep them away from true mages, because then they’d talk about why his Young aren’t in the mage schools (and he doesn’t care about their names) and he won’t have an answer, so he keeps them away. He succeeds for the most time.

Except, when he sees Yennefer of _fucking_ Vengerberg in the town he’s trying to buy cloaks for thirty-six people, he immeditly drops everything and _runs_ . He flies into the camp like fire’s nipping at his heels and tells his people that _they’ve got to fucking go, right now._ He doesn’t know if Yennefer saw him, or if she’ll notice him tearing out of the shop like a hag from hell but he can’t allow himself that thought. _If she did,_ he thinks darkly, _I’m not holding back._

He helps the children pack their bags, helps the teens throw their things in the wagons they’d bought three towns over. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, you guys go on ahead. Meet me at Cintra, okay? Go. Go! I’ll catch up.”

_“Promise!”_ comes a whine from Robin. He’s younger than the others, still a toddler and he’s already gotten the ‘promise’ from his siblings. Jaskier sighs harshly through his nose, before leaning forward and kissing Robin’s head. He can’t⸺he _won’t_ ⸺promise because Jaskier doesn’t know what will happen if Yennefer comes. But his people must go _now._

“I can’t,” he whispers. “But you’re going to be safe, okay?”

_“Jaskier.”_ Wallflowers says, reaching for her Prince’s hands. _“Jaskier, please.”_

“I can’t,” he tells her again, and brushes away a tear that falls from her eye. “I can’t, okay? Don’t make me.”

He looks at Sundew and Comet. They are the two he trusts the most with his people. They’re the smartest and have the most magical ability. And, she’s absolutely _ruthless_ to keeping her family safe, and Comet’s the one who keeps a level head. Together, they’re good. Very, very, very good. “Go,” he tells them. “Keep them safe. I’ll meet you in Cintra. Now.” 

Sundew looks like she wants to say something back, and then Comet reaches for the reins. He keeps a hand on Sundew’s arm, and her eyes move between the other teenagers and the Young waiting for them to follow their Prince’s orders. Comet shakes his head at Sundew’s glance before she backs off, still staring into Jaskier’s too-blue eyes. The horses spur forward and Jaskier watches them, and Sundew stares back, Wallflower in her lap looking at Jaskier. He swears that Sundew’s lip curled into a snarl and Jaskier smells Yennefer before he sees her. 

Yennefer hums. “So, what are you doing hanging around with children? Are they yours?” She questions and Jaskier swallows. He knows she hasn’t heard of their plans. Just that he’s “hanging around” them. They aren’t his children, but she honestly doesn’t truly need to know that. He swallows his pride and the memories buried deep within him. Then, he whirls around and throws out his hands.

“Ah, Yennefer of Vengerberg!” He shouts. “Here to speak to _me!_ I’m honoured, witch, but here’s the thing: I don’t want to.”

Yennefer raises an eyebrow before her eyes flick toward the dust trail still settling. “Hmm.” She says and Jaskier can’t help but think of Geralt. He glances at her hands, a ring on her finger and then his eyes snap towards hers. He takes a breath through his nose, smells the lilacs and the gooseberries that her magic smells like; something else is there, too. The other Magic smells like electricity, tickling his nose and there’s something deep within Jaskier that thinks he should remember this smell, but he doesn’t. He sees the strings alongside Yennefer’s destiny. 

One is a deep green. It’s daring and bright and stretches toward the mountains, wound tightly around Yennefer’s waist; the other looks like a blue string, cobbled together and sitting loosely on Yennefer’s wrist. The string falls down Yennefer’s arm when she raises it to brush away her hair. Jaskier’s own stretches in the string’s direction, and Jaskier knows that’s Geralt’s. Perhaps, one day, Geralt would have been a red, yellow, green, or any color String on Yennefer, but his djinn’s wish complicated so many matters. It makes an attempt to change its color, to become a type of red, but it always falls flat. It can’t, Jaskier realizes. It’s the djinn’s String, connecting Geralt and Yennefer.

“Aren’t you going to ask me of your beloved White Wolf?” Yennefer asks, her finger twisting the ring around and around her finger.

“No.” Jaskier declares. He can’t ask about Geralt. Not right now. He’d go off in an attempt to find him, find the end of the String connecting them, and then he’d forget his people. He can’t. Jaskier turns his back on the witch, and he begins walking down the road. The dust has settled and Jaskier’s lute is across his back and he almost⸺ _almost_ ⸺can imagine that he’s walking down the road with Geralt next to him.

“Bard.” Yennefer’s voice calls. Jaskier keeps walking.

“If you want to talk,” he starts. “Then let’s walk.”

* * *

“You’ve been gone for six Winters,” Yennefer tells him, walking alongside him. “And then I find you, here. In a backwater town, with all your illegitimate children.” Jaskier smiles, tightly. 

“I’m not their father,” he says, forgetting his thoughts of her not needing to know they aren’t all this. He’s very forgetful, nowadays. He’s been living in the fucking woods with only berries and leaves and stuff, come on, cut him some slack. “Some of them are older than me.”

“I doubt that,” Yennefer says back. “But, sure. All these teenagers, all those toddlers, and all those children. They’re _all_ older than you. Fine, I’ll pretend to believe that.” Then, she looks at him. Takes in his flower-filled long hair, the stubble across his jaw that he’d shaved on request of Comet. “So, where have you been hiding?” She questions, plucking off one of Jaskier’s flowers and examining it.

Jaskier shrugs. He’s not in the mood to explain the Fae, especially to a Witch who should _know_ what they are. She’s not stupid, despite what Jaskier very much want to believe. She’s not. She is a very, very smart witch. She obviously just wasn’t looking deep enough, or she didn’t truly care. Maybe she’d forgotten. It didn’t matter anymore but he does snatch back the flower, tucks it back behind his ear, and tells her that he’s been around. He wonders if she can smell the wood smoke and magic from his necklace. It’s pretty weird she didn’t comment on it when he woke up, or at least told Geralt. It’s weird.

Maybe it’s because he doesn’t look like the Fae. He doesn’t have Wings, his teeth aren’t as sharp as theirs, he doesn’t use glamor, not to mention, in reality, his magic is very weak compared to theirs. Sure, he’s got magic , and his teeth are just a tinties bit sharper than a normal human’s, and he still looks like he’s eighteen despite him being fifty-six years old. Yennefer is looking at him, awaiting his response, and Jaskier swallows and says: “I thought it was only four Winters.”

Yennefer raises an eyebrow before she sighs and stops. “Six Winters,” she said. “Cirilla was twelve when we got her. She’s eighteen now. Six winters.”

“Oh? Did Geralt finally go find his Child Surprise? How did the Lioness let her go? I thought after Pavetta, she wouldn’t have allowed that child to go anywhere without her.”

Yennefer frowns. “The Lioness of Cintra?”

“Yes? Who else is a ‘lioness’ who has a grandchild named ‘Cirilla’?”

“Jaskier.” Yennfer puts her hand out and stops him from walking. “Jaskier, she _died.”_

“What? No. Death’s too afraid to take her.”

“Nilfgaard wasn’t. They invaded Cintra, and the Lioness took her own life to avoid being captured by them. She told Ciri to find Geralt of Rivia, that he’s her Destiny.”

“Cintra fell?” Jaskier’s mouth tastes like ash. “And Ciri was forced to leave?”

“Jaskier, where have you _been?”_

“Fuck.”

“This happened _six years ago_ , Jaskier.”

“ _Fuck!_ ”


	2. Sundew and Comet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ Her and Comet slept with him for months. They’d lay on his side, and wrap their arms around him and he’s bigger than they wanted him to be, but he’s okay. Wallflowers sleep on top of him, and they listen to him sing them to sleep every night. It’s what they’re used to, and what they’ve missed since he’s gone. He begins his positions of power, counting how much food they have, how much they need, and if he deems it necessary to go off finding more herbs or anything to help their Healer. They go to him for certain things, maybe something political like someone stole someone else’s trinket. Once, they went to ask if they can make a Changeling, and he’d disagreed, so venomously nobody ever went to ask him again. He’d become powerful, Sundew could tell, but she’s always going to see a child crying because the birds don’t have a home to return to.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE ABSOLUTE HAPPINESS I GET WHENEVER I SEE COMMENTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> WHEN I'M GLAD THAT Y'ALL LIKE THIS STORY I'M LEGIT WHEN I SAY I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT FAE STUFF OR ANYTHING SO I GUESS I'M STEALING THE FAE THINGS??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????  
> I GUESS IT'S AN AU FAE THANG???????/ ALRIGHTY TIGHTY! 
> 
> Enjoy!

She gnashes her teeth together, feeling too-sharp edges poking into her lip and spilling Fae blood on their wagon. Comet’s calm, the reins in his hands and he glances back at their Young often. Robin is feeling his forehead, where their Prince blessed him and asked them not to make him promise that he’d find them. 

“We go to Cintra,” Comet said. “Keep Wallflower on the wagon.” Sundew glances down at the kitten sitting on her lap, looking at her with too much intelligence in her eyes. Sundew presses a kiss to her charge’s forehead, and whispers that it’ll be okay. She uses her magic to keep the cat sitting, and Wallflower yowls in anger. 

“It’s for your own good,” Sundew snaps. She knows her sister just needs an inch to run a mile. If they don’t keep her in the wagon, she’d run right back to their Prince with no thought for her⸺or  _ their⸺ _ safety. It’s why their Prince entrusted both Comet and Sundew with their family. She kneels next to Comet and he reaches over to squeeze her hand before glancing over at her. Their Young have transformed and layed down to sleep. Some are birds, in the rafters, bats sleeping underneath their wings. Small animals, so they can all fit in one wagon. They lost their Prince once more, and it’s better than they are all together rather than apart.

But that was before he came into their camp, face drained of blood, ordering them to run and find Cintra. He will meet them there. Perhaps he will find them on the road; get a horse and ride out quickly to find them. If they find their parents without their Prince, their King will be heartbroken and upset at all of them. Before they left, Sundew smelled lilac and gooseberries, Chaos swirling and something deep within her snarled and strained against Sundew’s restraint.  _ Mage. _ Comet was the one who’d took Sundew’s arm and forced her to look at their worried Prince’s face before they took off.

She wanted to jump off the wagon and  _ protect _ her Prince. But she knew he was only doing this for  _ their _ protection, so she’d chained that side of her and they kept going. Their Young need to understand the fact that their Prince, and their King gives them their orders, and they must follow. They know the best for their Kind. Despite their Prince being only a quarter Fae, he’s got more magic than their Princess, has been with them longer than their Princess, and more importantly,  _ didn’t deny his birthright. _ If Sundew fought against that order, then she’s giving the Young a bad influence. She’s allowing them to think that their Prince and King are  _ wrong _ ⸺which they can be⸺but most times they  _ aren’t. _ Wallflower Changes and screams for Sundew to let her go, she’s not going to jump off the wagon at any moment. Comet hands off the reins to Sundew, and she takes them without batting an eye. 

He goes to talk to Wallflower, who quiets when Comet comes near her. Sundew keeps her eyes on the road ahead, knowing that she’s gotta be absolutely ruthless for her family. 

They go to Cintra, and they wait for their Prince. And, if they find their parents or grandparents along the way, then the Young will take them to Cintra with them. They will not abandon their Prince.

Not again.

* * *

Sundew was born on a crisp Autume’s morning. Comet was born just minutes after her from a different Fae but they had a connection. Their magic was powerful together and apart (but Sundew could wipe the floor with Comet). (Just sayin’.) Sundew was originally supposed to be a Changeling, changed with the Viscount’s daughter, so she (their replacement Princess) might grow together with her people. But, Sundew was told years later, the Viscount killed their Princess for being a  _ girl. _

How unoriginal. At least they could’ve said  _ I think she might grow more powerful than me _ (which she would’ve) _ and I’m very, very deeply scared. _ Cowards. Comet had squeezed her hand, and whispered that he was  _ glad _ she wasn’t given away. For all the sorrow of not having a Princess, it wouldn’t have been the same, because they were  _ Sundew and Comet. _

They were a team that helped their Young. At least, until they’d been told they were going to have a  _ Prince. _

* * *

He first came to them when Sundew and Comet were ten decades old. He  _ smelled _ human, but there was something buried deep within him that made them all flock towards him. Even  _ Storm,  _ who only spoke to his parents and hid behind them when the King came to speak with all of them, would edge near the boy. Their King had told them that this human boy was their  _ Prince _ , and Sundew had told her parents she hated him. He smelled too human, he looked too human, he wasn’t  _ her Prince. _ He couldn’t be. How could her Prince only be  _ six years old? _ How could  _ she _ outlive her  _ Prince _ . Her parents had sat her down, and explained that he wasn’t entirely Fae, he’s only a quarter. He will age slower than a normal human, but still faster than a Fae’s. 

Sundew still didn’t understand. He’s their  _ Prince! _ He would take over when his grandfather  _ died! _ He should survive that long, shouldn’t he? And then longer! Her parents had told her that he won’t ever actually take over. He’d be dead long before his grandfather died, and therefore he can’t take over the throne. But, he’s still going to learn what being a Prince is, and how he’s supposed to help them and keep them safe and Sundew had raised an eyebrow. She didn’t see a point if he’s not going to be their King someday. 

But when she saw him with their Young, holding them gently and his eyes held this one  _ look. _ It shouldn’t have won Sundew over so easily, but she’d seen how he looked when Storm came over and sat in his lap, how his grandfather ruffled his hair and how he’d given her and Comet poisonous berries and  _ beamed _ when they said ‘thank you’. He was the one who’d, when he first tried to climb a tree, fell onto a bird’s nest (which was empty) and broke his arm and  _ cried _ for hours afterward because the bird didn’t have anywhere to live anymore. He was a  _ baby. _ He was a baby Fae, who’d come from the human world. 

They wrestled with him, kept him on his toes, and braided flowers into his hair. He squirmed and complained the entire time because he had to sit still, so they invented a game. If they caught him, then he got a flower in his hair. By the first week of the game, his hair was so filled with flowers, she could’ve sworn he’d never take them all out. Then, he’d turn the tables on  _ them, _ catch them in the act, and then he’d sing a little tune, something short and sweet to make them stop. And then he’d braid a buttercup in their hair (very, very messily.) He didn’t even know how to braid for Citron’s sake! But when they taught him, he looked so  _ interested _ ; when his thirty-sixth braid came out looking  _ slightly _ better than his thirty-fifth, he’d almost  _ glowed. _ And that’s when Sundew knew.

He’s a human, she knows, but he’s  _ their _ human Prince. He’s  _ theirs, _ no matter what anybody else ever says. And she knew she’d never let him go.

* * *

Of course, then it was time for him to go. They took him out when the little ones were asleep, sang them a lullaby that lulled them into a false sense of security. She’d slept on Jaskier’s right side, Comet on his left, and they were both snuggled into his side. Her parents’ voice whispered a different lullaby, one that always got every Fae asleep in five minutes, their Prince included. And then,  _ they took him away. _

The Young weren’t consulted, because they’re  _ Young _ , of course. They’re attached to the Prince and they would say no way. So, they took him in the cover of night and, of course, the wailing that filled the air when they realized their Prince wasn’t there. Oh, Storm refused to eat, Wallflower screamed with all her might, Robin didn’t want to wake up and the only people that could possibly calm them down were Jaskier, Sundew, and Comet. It went on for days, before the Young began to settle down, and eventually forget that Jaskier used to sing them to sleep at night, and make them flower crowns. Sundew and Comet never forgot, nor did they forgive. They understood  _ why _ .

Jaskier was human. He needed to go back to the Human World, needed to connect with them, and understand why he’s their Prince. He needs to before he can help to lead his people along their way. Of course, seeing the String that was stretched so far into the mountains didn’t hurt either. Their King told them their Prince needed to find his destiny and either play along, or rewrite it. 

So, the Young kept quiet. But, late one night, they’d hummed a song and  _ nobody _ hummed back. It was all over the villagers’ lips the next day.  _ “The Viscount’s son, yes. He just ran off with nothing except the clothes on his back and his grandfather’s old lute, apparently.”  _ And Sundew and Comet knew what they had to do. Of course, it took some planning and using someone else’s magic. Weaving it through their clothes, and through gold trinkets given by people who didn’t want the wrath of Fae upon them, and one night, a year later, they tried it out themselves first.  _ It worked. _

So, they did it to a few of their other people. A few that wanted their Prince back as well, others who felt he was taken from them too soon. They found him traveling with a white-haired man, with yellow eyes. The  _ smell _ was unlike anything she’s ever smelled before. Monster blood, guts, gory, and something underneath it. His head had darted towards Comet’s position, and he’d bare his teeth whenever Jaskier wasn’t looking. Sundew had used her own magic, wove it throughout the forest so their voices were only the rustling of the bushes. Jaskier heard them.

He looks older, honestly. Silky brown hair, these cornflower blue eyes that seemed to glow in the light, and these fancy clothes and a lute next to him.  _ “Sing, my Prince,” _ Sundew whispered to him.  _ “One last time.”  _ Their Prince had looked at Comet, at Sundew, at all of his friends. Then, he picked up his lute and began strumming a lullaby that their parents would sing, and Sundew hums along quietly to it. She listens to Comet’s light footsteps come to rest next to her, and his hands hold hers. 

“He will come home, won’t he?” Snow asked her, watching their Prince.

“He will,” Sundew replies, Comet nodding next to her. “But we don’t know when. He’s got someone.” She nods toward their Prince’s arm around the human’s, or perhaps he wasn’t human, chest. Sundew knows he’s only waiting for their parents to call them home, which will be happening any moment. “He’s got a friend. Someone other than us.”

“Destiny,” Iary hums next to Snow, her blank eyes looking at nothing. “It’s Destiny.”

“Are you sure?”

“As sure as Zosherea is my mother’s name.”

Sundew can hear her mother’s voice, calling for her, the magic trying to pull them backwards. Their Prince’s arm is still around the not-human’s chest, and he’s staring at the woods. Their Prince is asleep, safe in the arms of a not-human, not-Fae creature and Sundew growls, low in her throat. The man’s yellow eyes snap toward her, and he growls too. He doesn’t move, scared to move Jaskier’s arms and Sundew’s father’s voice joins her mother’s. Other parents join in, calling their children back, and they  _ can’t _ resist it all. Sundew and Comet are the last to leave, and she’s staring at the yellow-eyed man, while Comet’s staring at their Prince.

* * *

She snaps out of her thoughts as Comet flies down next to her. He Transforms back and smiles at her. “Everyone’s okay. The others are asleep and we’re ready to slow down.” Sundew gently slows the horses down to a trot, then walking. She looks over at Comet, whose eyes dart to the woods every so often. 

“Why do you think he sent us to Cintra?” Comet asks. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sundew replies. “That’s where the Witcher’s Surprise is, isn’t she? And where the Witcher won’t go, is where we’ll have to go.”

“Our Prince is a smart one, isn’t he?” Comet nudges her arm, smiling at her.

“Smarter than his Witcher.” She jokes back. “We need to be up at sunrise, Comet.”

He takes the reins from her hands and then stops the horses on the side of the road. “We’re revealed here,” she tells him. 

“It’s one of our only places.” He retorts. “Come on, I’ll keep watch, okay? Just go to sleep.” And he pushes her down to sleep next to her brother. Ori snuggles deeper into Sundew’s side and she kisses his forehead. She knows she’s not going to sleep anytime soon, worrying about her Prince and about what they’re going to eat for the next day, and her brother’s insistence that he wants to do something other than explore the wagon and meadows she’d sent him to. 

Comet passess a hand over her face, and whispers “Sleep, or else I’m singing the Prince’s lullaby.”

“You wouldn’t  _ dare.” _ She whispers, horror coating her voice. Comet knows that if  _ anyone _ sings the Prince’s lullaby it’s a guarantee that everyone else is going to sleep, no matter what they want. And, she’s going to deck him if he tries. She  _ will. _

“Then sleep,” Comet says, chuckling. “Ori will be fine. And so are we. We’re going to be okay. Okay? Me, you, our Prince, and our people. Sleep.” 

And she takes a deep breath, wraps an arm around her little brother, and she buries her face into Ori’s hair. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay on Watch? Not going to  _ fall asleep _ on me, are you?”

“It was one time, Sundew, and my parents sang me to sleep, okay?” Sundew laughed into her brother’s hair and she can hear Comet’s smile. She does fall asleep, later in the night with Ori nuzzling her.

* * *

When their Prince does return, he’s heartbroken. He tells them of his stories, sings of his Witcher’s praises, and cries when Wallflower gives him a hug. Sundew’s first thought is that if she brings her Prince the Witcher’s head, then he’ll be fine. But Comet had raised an eyebrow and told her that Destiny drew their Prince and the Witcher together, and if she dies trying to kill a  _ Witcher, _ Comet’s going to have to die trying to kill the Witcher as well. She’d flicked Comet’s nose and scowled, but tucked flowers into her Prince’s short hair and ordered him to braid her own long hair. Any kind of braid. It distracted him enough to climb out of his bed and try out different hairstyles on her. 

Her favorite was when he took her hair and braided it into two thick braids before making it into a bun at the base of her  [ head ](https://hubbardplace.org/wp-content/uploads/different-braided-hairstyles-1805-29-gorgeous-braided-updo-ideas-for-2019-of-different-braided-hairstyles.jpg) . He’d tucked flowers around the bun and he braids the flowers stem into her two braids and she  _ loved it. _ But then Wallflower and Comet, and Robin, and Iary, and everyone began demanding that he do their hair in the mornings and she’ll admit, she didn’t mean to start a hairstyling business. Their Prince took his payment in them offering him different flowers to braid into their hair, or apples given from a tree that  _ didn’t _ have a bird’s nest in it. But Sundew was always the first one whose hair he’d braid first, and the one whose hair he’d try out new styles on, muttering curses and twisting leather bands and flowerstems around her hair, trying to get them to stay. Of course, and a little tiny bit of magic always helps, too, but she won’t tell him that. 

Her and Comet slept with him for months. They’d lay on his side, and wrap their arms around him and he’s bigger than they wanted him to be, but he’s okay. Wallflowers sleep on top of him, and they listen to him sing them to sleep every night. It’s what they’re used to, and what they’ve missed since he’s gone. He begins his positions of power, counting how much food they have, how much they need, and if he deems it necessary to go off finding more herbs or anything to help their Healer. They go to him for certain things, maybe something political like someone stole someone else’s trinket. Once, they went to ask if they can make a Changeling, and he’d disagreed, so venomously nobody ever went to ask him again. He’d become powerful, Sundew could tell, but she’s always going to see a child crying because the birds don’t have a home to return to. 

And, so he grew. He did. He was content with his heartbreak, and he’d moved onward and they all saw that. He was human. He could move on from heartbreak and he could be content with himself; he still loves him, though. He loves the Witcher, and he isn’t over him, but their Prince is keeping Destiny in the corner with nothing, except his own voice keeping her trapped. So, he grew and he made promises of staying with them; watched children grow into young toddlers, walking around themselves and he watched Comet’s own parents place a glamor on his sister and give her away for a Changeling. 

She’d forgotten, honestly, that her Prince has seen more than any of them combined. He’d traveled the World, seen everything that they never did. And that’s why, if he’d been born even a half-Fae, or full-Fae, why he’d been one of their best leaders. He’d have broken every single Fae rule, given his own name at every opportunity, and shoved himself out of the Fae world one inch at a time. He’d have come back with his grandfather pushing him into magical handcuffs, forcing him to limit his own magic for punishment and stay with the itch and burn of not using enough magic. And, then he’d be shunned from the community for six hundred years, kept away from his own kind and the keys to the cuffs they’d put on him.

And she’s almost fifteen decades old. She’s lived in her forest for her entire life and nothing bad has ever happened in her world of the Forest. Her parents protected them, and she and Comet and all the new teenagers were going to take over soon enough to help protect the Young. They aren’t Young forever, after all. But her Prince is only a quarter Fae, and they let him go.

But, Gods damn her and Destiny  _ kill her, _ she’s not giving up her Prince again.

* * *

They (Comet, Sundew, Iary, Snow, Shadow) set their Young on a hunt. Find a deer, kill it, and bring it back to the Camp. They split them into groups, each of them with one teenager. It’ll help their Young use their magic and help them learn how to hunt for themselves, just in case they’re separated. Sundew is the first to arrive back at their camp, three squirrels hang over her shoulders and a sour expression when she sees Comet coming from the woods with a deer slung over his shoulder.

“Couldn’t find any deer?” He’d asked, letting his fall from his shoulders. She shrugs, skinning the squirrels with an expert’s hand.

“Ours was pregnant.” She lied. He leaned forward, and shook his head. 

“Kind-hearted, huh,” he said. He knew she was lying, but neither of them said anything. Shimmer, birthed just a few centures ago, came waddling toward Comet, with her hands in the ‘up’ position. 

“Up, up, up!” She ordered. “Up, Com! Up.” Comet leaned down, scooped up the child and Sundew lifted an eyebrow. 

“She’s got you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”

“Maybe.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, shut up.” He joked. 

“Shimmer,” Sundew leaned down and booped the toddler’s nose. “Shimmer, what’re you doing?”

“I sit.” She replied before leaning forward and taking Sundew’s finger. “I have teeth now, see? See, Sunny? See?” And she placed Sundew’s finger in her mouth and bit down, drawing blood. 

_ “Fu⸺” _ She screamed before yanking her finger out and Shimmer looked full of  _ pride _ , the little ass. “Fudge.” She snapped. Comet leaned forward, before taking Sundew’s hand and determining that she’ll be okay. 

“Shimmer, that’s not  _ good. _ We don’t bite Sundew, or your family.” Shimmer’s expression turned from being prideful to being sad and her bottom lip began trembling. 

“I wanted Sunny to see my  _ teeth, _ Com!” She wailed before launching herself at Sundew’s lap.  _ “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” _

“It’s alright, Shim. Don’t do it again, okay?” Sundew said before patting the toddler’s hair. “Go find Feather and get her to brush your hair. It’s knotty.”

Shimmer sniffled, then took herself off of Sundew’s lap and went running off to find Feather. “Kinda our fault, too, and our Prince’s. We’ve got to know how to defend ourselves, and the toddlers watch. Children do pick up on things.”

“I know,” Sundew replied before beginning to skin the deer, and she glances upward to watch the other teens skinning theirs as well. “We’ve got to feed all of us, and none of us have cloaks.”

“We’ve got fur.”

“Shut  _ up, _ Comet.” Her lips twitch up in a smile before she leans down to keep skinning the deer. Comet laughed warmly next to her.

* * *

They eat with vigor, and then set off again. It’s barely past sunrise, Sundew is determined to get to Cintra before their Prince does. The children play games with each other, Comet transforming into a mouse, running between the childrens’ legs and jumping from wagon to wagon as Sundew keeps the reins. They don’t pause often, only when the horses grow tired, or they see or hear a stream running. Sundew stops three toddlers from walking right off the wagons themselves.

The forest calls for them, just as it calls for Sundew and Comet. It asks for  _ safety, _ it asks them to  _ settle, _ it promises good things to come for years. It’s where their Prince will find them. 

But it is a lie. Their Prince will continue on to Cintra, and it won’t stop. Technically speaking, the Forest  _ would be _ safe. But when there was no forest? No trees, nor food? Nothing? What will happen? They will die, they will  _ starve, _ and their Prince won’t realize that they’ve perished and Sundew  _ refuses to hurt him anymore. _

* * *

He became a part of their world, their Prince. He was in a position of power, and they did what they could to coax back the seven-year-old boy who’d tried to get honey for them when one of the Young asked, was stung multiple times, and still smiled and giggled when their healers pressed herbs onto the wounds, and his grandfather scolded him.

Sundew forced him to teach her the different ways to braid hair, and she taught him how to use the leaves stems and how to mold leather bands. She also teaches him how to steal leather bands from other farmers, or to grab it from a girl’s hair when she and her lover decided to do their business in  _ their  _ woods. She even managed to grab onto a nobleman’s leather belt and stripped it into bands to give into her Prince’s supply. (They always seem to disappear, though.)

The newer children, babies by any other world, grab onto their Prince’s hair like it’s nothing. They shove their fists into their mouths, and then watch with wide eyes as Sundew begins the process of braiding their Prince’s hair, which is soft and not knotty no matter  _ what _ Sundew did; and if she didn’t know any better, she’d swear that magic played a part in their Prince.

* * *

She braids the other childrens’ hair. She does a  [ waterfall ](https://drumsofthunder.org/wp-content/uploads/formal-braided-hairstyles-2812-loop-waterfall-braid-braids-of-formal-braided-hairstyles.jpg) braid for Wallflower; a  [ fishtail ](https://lovehairstyles.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/tp-fishtail-braid-mohawk.jpg) braid for Robin, and Snow insists on her hair being braided in two parts, with two ponytails on the  [ end ](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d6/1c/19/d61c19f2f4852382677d2f418fb318c0.jpg) . Ori’s hair is still thin, so she isn’t going to mess with it just yet, and Thorn only tied his back in a ponytail. She’s bored, waiting for Cintra to come into view; and the Young are only getting restless. Even Comet, who is always for sitting still and keeping quiet, is beginning to become restless and angry. He snaps at Sundew more often now, and she snaps right back.

It’s not easy, trying to keep the Young contained and happy. It’s not easy, keeping a level head when they don’t even know where their Prince is; not easy that their parents have gone, wishing that they’d find a new home before returning for their parents. It’s not  _ easy _ trying to raise their Young without the protection of the forest around them, hiding their True selves and having to hide their magic from any and all Mages that cross their path. And it’s certainly not easy to protect their Prince when he’s not there to  _ protect. _ For all Sundew knows, he’s trapped with the purple-eyed mage. She growls before Comet sighs, and takes the reins from her. 

“Go,” he tells her, nudges her towards the sky. “Transform, let go of your energy. Wallflower’s playing the Splashing game.”

Sundew glances back towards the girl, whose pulling her magic towards her and showing the other Young an ocean, filled with fake water. The Young don’t realize the difference and they are trying to put their hands through, but Wallflower yanks it back at just the right moment. It’s fun for them. Sundew Transforms into a bird before she flies upward into the air, feeling nothing except the wind at her back and she thinks:  _ this is how it should be. _

* * *

Their King told them, years ago, when he let go of their Prince, that Destiny wanted him gone. Citron told them of how Destiny has marked him, given him a String and the ability to  _ see _ Strings. “He can’t ever forget his,” their King told them, and Ori’s wail was more than enough for everyone to understand. There’s a map, hidden deep within their Prince’s soul. It’s for his Destiny to read it, and follow its path.

Their Prince  _ is _ the map, and he is not. He is something that connects many, many people, but he is only connected to one person. And the Fae are his family, just as much as his Destiny. But, Destiny is a bitch who doesn’t understand when to quit, and when to keep going. Their King says that Destiny both blessed and cursed their Prince; so they must follow her game until they can break Destiny’s hold over their Prince.

Their King doesn’t say:  _ our Prince is only quarter-Fae. _

Citron can’t say:  _ We love him too much to keep him safe in the Forest, away from his Destiny. _

Their King doesn’t say: _ Destiny has a hold over him because he’s three-fourths human _

Citron doesn’t reply:  _ Destiny is a cruel mistress, forcing him in love _

Their King does not say:  _ She won’t let go of our Prince, because she’s his favorite plaything. _

Citron refuses to say:  _ He’s only a narrator in her story, forced to watch and not do anything. _

And their King does not say:  _ When he dies, she will find a new plaything, and use them to keep her plans on track. _

Sundew isn’t afraid to say it, but she’d rather not say anything in front of their Young, who are all screaming and wailing because they hate Destiny as much as their older generation. The teenagers (then, children) stayed quiet throughout the meeting, and then they went to bed, still quiet. It was a mourning, premature, Sundew thinks. A premature mourning, so when their Prince does return, either heartbroken or fully healed, they would and could spend their time trying to keep  _ him _ happy, or trying to⸺for lack of a better word⸺‘fix’ him.

Sundew thinks it was better than trying to mourn when he was there, like their very Young did.

* * *

When Cintra comes into view, even Ori’s endless chatter is silenced by the quiet in the air. It smells different, there’s only birds singing in the trees, and the ruins that are Cintra, are  _ dead. _

“I’m going to check it out,” she insists, handing the reins to the horses toward Comet. “Don’t follow.”

“I’m following.” He replies and her lip curls.

“You do smell what’s happening, right? Or what  _ did _ happen?”

Comet’s nostrils flared, and he breathed deep before leaning forward. “Murder,” he whispers to her. “It was murder.”

“A whole Kingdom,” she whispers back, shielding their Young. They glance towards the once-great Kingdom, now burning still now. “Do you know who?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Comet insists. “Together.”

Sundew glances back to their Young. “Our Prince,” she whispers, “said to stay here.”

“He can’t have known,” Comet replied. “He was with us for Winters, wasn’t he? It must’ve been afterwards.”

Sundew glances back towards their Young, and takes another deep breath. It hounds her senses, the scents of murder and mages, of blood and steel; her instincts are screaming at her to take her Young and get far, far away from the burning kingdom. Her mind is hounding her to follow orders, at least to sit in Cintra’s gates and wait for her Prince to come and fix things. But she knows, her Prince doesn’t know what has happened.

So, she takes Comet’s hand, squeezes it gently, and tells him “Let’s go.”

* * *

Comet takes the air, and Sundew takes the ground. She slinks between the alleyways, sniffing the air every so often, trying to find other humans. She doesn’t find them often, just a few sitting outside of their homes further into the kingdom. Mothers shushing babies, fathers bartering for their food on the table; children trying to play games on the ground, only for the games to be trampled by soldiers’ horses. The soldiers wear black armor that makes Sundew recoil in anger. There’s Chaos all around them, something that makes the air taste  _ bad. _

Comet taste it, too. But Comet’s better at hiding and acting. More than Sundew, at the moment. Comet acts like a bird, sitting on edges and tilting his head whenever Sundew manages a glance upward. She meows at the bird, a promise that she’s going to catch him; he flits toward another way. Sundew follows.

She takes one step forward before a shoe almost steps on her paws. She jumps back, snarling, and the woman risks a glance backwards before the woman’s lips curl up and she calls out “Careful, little Kitty,” and keeps running. Sundew watches with narrowed eyes, and then smells something.  _ Chaos and electricity, _ and Sundew watches as soldiers come pouring from wherever the Electricity woman had come from. Comet twitters above her, and Sundew sits back on her haunches, and purrs.

* * *

The woman’s easy to find. They’ve just got to follow the soldiers who’re following the woman. Sundew takes a shortcut and lands right in front of the woman. The woman glances at her again before turning into a dead end, and cursing when she realizes that she can’t go anywhere. Comet tweets above her, and Sundew tilts her head before looking at the woman again.

Her eyes are furious, ready to fight, her head tilted. She’s listening for the soldiers. Sundew meows, and the woman’s eyes settle on hers. Sundew meows again, and the woman doesn’t look away. Satisfied, Sundew jumps onto a box, then takes a huge jump onto the pile of boxes (which is very convenient) before jumping onto a ledge and then onto the roof where Comet sits. They both peer down at the woman, whose staring at her with something in her eyes. 

Sundew was frustrated. Does she need  _ another _ demonstration? The woman glances at the alleyway’s entrance, hears the soldiers’ jeering remarks about her, before she jumps onto the boxes and the ledge and then crouches onto the roof next to Sundew. The woman’s hand pets Sundew’s head, and she whispers “Thank you.”

The soldiers are confused, and Sundew is happy. She’s given a gift; and therefore, the girl is in debt to her. Comet twitters next to her, and Sundew whirls around, snatching him. She holds him gently, doesn’t bite his neck, and she keeps her claws retracted. The woman next to her startles, the soldiers below losing interest in how she’d managed to escape a dead end, and they begin to fan out. They will still search for the woman, but they won’t look upwards. 

Sundew purrs, and Comet tweets.

* * *

The woman sneaks past the soldiers by rooftop, Sundew and Comet leading her different ways. Her Chaos is electricity, and it tastes somehow like their Prince’s. It’s familiar, Sundew guesses. The woman keeps quiet for the most part, watching both of them. She also watches the people underneath her, watches as some beg and plead for their children to behave; watches children scream. Sundew moves between the woman’s legs, rubbing her head against them. She purrs, too, and the woman keeps going wherever Sundew leads her. When Sundew jumps down the rooftops, she follows, Comet flying higher above them. Sundew leads the woman away from Cintra, and takes her to a meadow, one that’s far away enough from their Young. 

Comet flutters down next to Sundew, and the woman’s not looking at them. She’s looking at the meadow’s sunflowers, blooming nicely, and she’s also staring at the trees and the two Fae reach a decision. When the woman looks back, there’s two people standing there instead of two animals.

“Hello,” Sundew says, smiling with sharp teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SO MANY WORDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 
> 
> ANYWAY, DID Y'ALL ENJOY? GOOD! MEET ME AT MY OWN TUMBLRRRRRRRRR! ^.^


	3. Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ The White Wolf dreams of a brown-haired, cornflower-blue eyed man, while Ciri dreams of a voice, like honey and familiar somehow, singing. Yennefer does not dream of Jaskier, but she knows her family does.  _
> 
> _ Ciri wakes up with tears in her eyes, mouth opening to find a name she can’t quite make out; and Geralt wakes up in a sour mood more and more often. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part is this: I am so, so sorry that this was so late and so short. I was not happy with this chapter and I rewrote it a few times. There's a lot happening, and a lot going on but I think it feels okay. 
> 
> The second part is this: keep washing your hands, keep wearing your masks, and COVID-19 is not over yet. Especially for my friends in the USA! Wearing masks are to protect yourself, friends, and the other people around you, okay? 
> 
> Enjoy!

She will admit this: Julian Alfred Pankratz wasn’t supposed to be her narrator. He wasn’t. He was just supposed to be their White Wolf’s love for an extended period of time before She pull the two away from each other and give the Wolf another one. But, obviously, plans change and threads weave their own fabric; she knows. She held both of the souls in their hands, and then while they reach for each other, she’d thrown one to the wind, the White Wolf’s. She’d whispered for it-her-she to find its own way through the world, become a boy or a girl, or neither.  _ But, _ she said silently.  _ Don’t forget you seem to be missing part of yourself. _

And while the Wolf grew, she held onto the other part tightly. She waits for the time when she can drop the thing into the world and allow it to take it’s own form without her intervention. And while she waits, she plots and plans and threads fabric together. She weaves together the human girl’s and the Prince Fae’s, tells the Queen that if she does not allow the Prince to leave, she will burn their forest and collapse their Court. The Queen would never allow her son out normally, but Destiny is working Her own magic, and the Queen’s son is enhanced by the girl’s, whose claim is Destiny’s.

She didn’t plan on just how well the two would love each other, but they did have a child together. The Queen’s son left their home and Destiny had plotted her own system. The Pankratz just had a little boy as well and She brings the two threads together (one thread shimmering, beautiful and magical; the other dull) farther down the line and marries the Fae Prince’s child to the Pankratz’s son. The Fae Prince’s child denies her own birth; and she would have bore a girl child with the Spirit held in Destiny’s hands before She’d plucked it away.  _ Not yet, _ she had said. It bore unforeseen consequences, with rumors and whispers falling onto certain ears, but Destiny held tight onto the Soul.  _ Not yet. _ She repeated.

* * *

Julian Alfred Pankratz was born to loving parents, Destiny made sure of it. It would reaffirm Julian’s struggle inside of him since he is both Fae and human (and She isn’t dumb. She knows the Fae will come for their Prince). He spends the first five years of his life being pampered by parents, taken out of classes, and constantly told that he is a “charming little boy” by his parents’ servants and villages. 

And then the Fae takes him when he is six years old, using the Prince’s old flame. Destiny rages, because he is  _ six years old; _ they should have came for him when he was older. When his parents had reaffirmed their loving state, and he knew his place in the world.  _ But he’s six! _ He’s still finding his place in his parents’ heart, and they took him. Her lips curl up in a slight smile. 

_ “Prince Citron,” _ she whispered to the moon, who spoke to the Ocean, who had given the Sirens the thought, who sang it to the Pirates they sunk beneath their home, who cried to the wind, who whispered to the trees who rustled the grass underneath who told Citron. _ “The boy was part of my own plan. There will be consequences to this. Give him back to his parents before this week’s end and I will forgive this error.” _

And Prince Citron had spoken back, “No. He’s my grandson. I will not.”

And while the moon sets and the sun rises, She makes herself known. The sun and moon act as her eyes, and she stares down at the Prince.  _ “You are nothing except something of my creation,” _ she snarled.  _ “I will not forget this, Prince Citron of the Fae Court. Remember this: whatever happens, it is because you have forced my hand.” _

And she disappeared, leaving nothing except watering eyes and cries of the humans’ pleas of mercy.

* * *

The years pass when Jaskier is returned. But she makes his parents resent him a little bit for not coming back soon enough and they took the rest of the way. Eventually, their son left and She dropped them quicker, allowing them to do their own thing again while she followed Julian-now-Jaskier. He settles in Rinde, and the White Wolf sits at the other table.

The rest is history, she thinks.

* * *

But not quite. You don’t know about what happened after Jaskier had left his White Wolf, do you? 

The White Wolf finds his Child Surprise, and takes her to Kaer Morhen to keep her safe. He spends most of his time there, just until he finds Yennefer and brings her back; she trains Cirilla on her magic, while Kaer Morhen trains her own sword-fighting. Cirilla grows hard, with jagged edges and she lives with the Witchers, but she does not become one. The Witch and Wolf put their foot down, refuse it, and explain that she can’t lose that one part of her morality. The White Wolf dreams of a brown-haired, cornflower-blue eyed man, while Ciri dreams of a voice, like honey and familiar somehow, singing. Yennefer does not dream of Jaskier, but she knows her family does. 

Yennefer does not say anything. The Wolf and Songbird are in a fight, according to Geralt; and Ciri does not remember him well. It does no good opening up old wounds, Yennefer thinks. So she does not. Eskal, Vesemir, and Lambert are wise enough to not say anything either when Ciri wakes up with tears in her eyes, mouth opening to find a name she can’t quite make out; and Geralt wakes up in a sour mood more and more often.

Eventually, the dreams tamper off, and Ciri forgets the voice. The Wolf never forgets the way the Songbird looked at him, all loving and seemingly innocent.

* * *

Jaskier’s parents birthed another child, a girl this time, and their anger transferred back into their parenting of their little girl. She is raised in a home where hatred is good and her brother is missing, and she does not seem to care enough to send another search party. But she does burn the forest down⸺her mother and father constantly informed her that the forest was the reason her brother left⸺for herself. She does send parties throughout the forest with burning wood and trying to seek out the monsters who live.

One search party returns with one dead, and she immediately orders for the entire forest to burn to ash. “We can replant,” she’d explained. “But the monsters can’t hide.”

They do not find any monsters, but a traveling band of children and one adult do end up showing up. The adult looks young, and he looks like her. Same eyes and hair, but her brother’s long gone. It isn’t the man with thirty-six children. But she turns her attention to replanting the trees, and ways to keep the monsters from returning. They must have just left somehow. The traveling band does magic and puts on plays for the town before leaving at the end of the week.

* * *

There is a reason that the Fae King-Prince never made a real Court. His grandson would never truly be able to leave and he would always be drawn right back to where they had been. But he is considering, since his Grandson is not a child anymore and could fight the glamor and magic that the Fae use. 

He considers it, asks the others who are around him. They agree that a Court would be safer than finding another forest to live in, and they remind him, the Court wouldn't be able to be burnt down. And if it was they could collapse it underneath the humans and keep them trapped. If the worse came to worst, Citron’s Court reminds him, they could even keep the Prince’s humans trapped underneath with him.

“He wouldn’t allow it to happen,” Citron said. “He’s a softie.”

“He is human,” some murmur. “But if worst come to worst, we would.”

“To keep him safe,” Citron agreed.

And then the grass whispers something.

* * *

But the White Wolf’s girl is there, sitting next to two of Jaskier’s Fae family. Sundew and Comet. They are together, speaking and the White Wolf’s Surprise doesn’t realize that they are Fae; and that the Fae have given a Gift. You must repay the Fae. But they speak like nothing is amiss.  _ You have learned from my narrator, _ she hissed to herself. And she watches, moving between her narrator and his Fae.

Jaskier walks with the Witch underneath Her watchful eye. It seems that something is blooming between them (whether it is friendship or even a sisterly bond) Destiny watches. She threads Jaskier’s thread throughout the world while he was traveling but she never touched on Yennefer’s except just one or twice. Yennefer and Geralt’s threads always seemed more attached to each other, although she never thought of them together.

The other Fae children are huddled in their own wagon, not allowed outside since Sundew and Comet left together. They are nothing if not loyal, according to Jaskier’s own thoughts and feelings. But, she does end up whispering to the ocean, who tells the Sirens, who sing to the Pirates, who cry to the wind, who whispers to the trees, who tells the grass, who finds Citron. 

_ “Your grandchild and Court are in danger. And yet, here you are. Find the White Wolf.” _

And she sits back

* * *

The White Wolf is not hard to find, as he searches every town trying to find his Child who’d left without his own knowledge. Citron slips into the tavern where the Wolf is staring angrily at his mead before glancing up at him. “I have no need to find and kill any monster of your choice,” he growls. 

“You’re looking for someone,” Citron says. The Wolf’s yellow eyes stare at Citron, and the Fae King resists the urge to snarl at him. 

“You don’t need to know my business,” the Wolf replies before getting up, slapping down some coin and walking away. 

“Fiona, right.” Citron says, not asking. The Witcher pauses in his walking before turning around and stalking back to Citron. 

He slides back down into the seat, his eyes bright and angry. “How do you know about her.” He says.

“I know many things,” Citron replies. “I know who made you go find her, I know what you said to Jaskier, I know why you’re looking for her, and…” Citron leans closer to the Wolf.  _ “I know where she is.” _

* * *

There’s only so much a Fae can resist their own call and ask. Sundew asks, in her own words, “Can I have your name?”

“Fiona,” Cirilla says, and she ends it there. The Fae take the name, but they know this: it is not her True Name. Their Prince knows Fiona’s True Name, but he held his tongue whenever they asked. He didn’t even tell the Witch’s, nor the Witcher’s name either. 

“Fiona,” Comet tastes the name on his tongue, while Sundew keeps searching through the trees. “Fiona,” Comet says again and Cirilla looks upward. “Would you like to meet my family?” Comet asks.

“Can’t,” Cirilla-Fiona says. “I’ve got to go and meet with my own family. By now, they’ve probably noticed that I’m gone and he’s searching through the entirety of the continuent.”

“Can I have his name?” Sundew asks.

Cirilla-Fiona looks up at the girl for just a moment before shaking her head. “I can’t,” she informs her. “Sorry.”

“He’s a Witcher, isn’t he?” Sundew asks, suddenly so very calm. Cirilla-Fionia’s head snaps upward to stare at the Fae girl. 

“How do you know that?” She asks, voice shaky.

* * *

_ (Down the line, a man and woman walk together. _

_ Down the line, three children sit around an almost-made campfire, one staring at the others. _

_ Down the line, one of the King Fae and the Witcher walk together, the Witcher’s amulet silent. _

_ Down the line, thirty-four Fae children are huddled together, every sound scaring them, for it could be someone knowing what they are. _

_ Down the line, three Witchers sit in Kaer Morhen, before knocking begins at the door. _

_ Down the line, Destiny sits weaving the threads quicker than before. Everything must go accordingly, including the changes she did not see coming.) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're one chapter away from finishing this story, and I think this will complete my first multi-chapter fic. (I know I have unfinished stories somewhere, but I don't know if I am going to complete them. But we don't know when inspiration strikes, right?)
> 
> I really hope you guys did enjoy it! Comment if you want to, kudo or bookmark! Y'all are amazing and I would have never published anything more than I think my first Avengers story. 
> 
> Thank you for commenting, guys. My Tumblr name is the same as my writing name. If you guys want to come talk with me, I'll be happy to! (And if anybody wants to inform me more about the Fae than what I've researched, I would like that as well!)

**Author's Note:**

> There will be three/four chapters of this story because I can't control my writing. This one was five pages in Google docs, Belleza font, with font size eight. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
> 
> Find me on Tumblr. Same name, my dudes!!!!! :D


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